Shool Reunion
by Determamfidd
Summary: Now that he's a hero, Megamind's public appearances are hot property. Roxanne signs him up to speak at a school, triggering a whole mess of insecurity. Oh, what *fun*.
1. Chapter 1

Not mine, no money, no sue.

* * *

**Shool Reunion**

"Intolerable!"

She heard the shout the minute she walked through the hologrammatic wall into the Lair-Formerly-Known-As-Evil. She winced.

Minion came lumbering up immediately, his fishy face anxious. "Oh, Ms Ritchi, thank goodness you're here… I'm so sorry to have called so early, I know it's not really normal social protocol…"

"What's this all about, Minion?" she asked resignedly. Her head was aching from the shouting that was coming from the Lair's interior rooms and from her early start. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to give Minion her number as well as Megamind. But then, Minion was better at scheduling.

Minion's brown eyes darted towards the doorway to the living areas, and then back to her. "Um, well. You see, sir's never had to…"

"What's he done," she sighed.

"No! Nothing like that!" Minion's massive robotic hands flew up in denial. "Well, there was a small incident with the sonic coffeemaker earlier… but that was barely even a technical hiccup, I'm sure the stains will come off the ceiling."

"Minion, it's six in the morning. You called me here for something, and now you say there's no coffee. So, I had better get an answer. What's the problem?" she asked tersely, hoisting her handbag onto her shoulder and starting across the huge echoing working-area.

"Well…"

"ImPOSS-eyeball!"

They both winced. "It's the school thing," Minion whispered, wide-eyed with urgent meaning.

"The school… thing?" she echoed. "What…"

But then her sleepy brain caught up with her. "Oh, the school talk?"

Minion gave her a sheepish look. She groaned.

"Oh for Pete's sake. It's just a talk to a bunch of schoolkids, what could possibly be so bad about that?"

"Uh…" Minion hedged, but was interrupted by a crash. "Oh, dear."

Roxanne's eyebrows shot up. "That bad, huh."

"That bad and then some," Minion agreed. "School is… not such a fun topic. For either of us."

She frowned. "I know some of that… but surely, as the city's new hero, giving a talk to one of the more impoverished…"

"He never forgets anything, Ms Ritchi," Minion said seriously. "He _can't_." His fins moving agitatedly, he pushed open the door to Megamind's living quarters.

They were a mess, clothes and uniforms and capes and collars strewn all over the (black leather) furnishings. It looked like he'd tipped out his whole wardrobe and tried everything on, piece by piece. And from the look of him, seated in the middle of the cloth carnage, wearing his bolt-emblazoned bodysuit, boots that probably needed ladders to scale, and a huge, theatrically spiked collar that gave him a passing resemblance to an armoured frill-necked lizard, it seemed Megamind had done just that.

"Sir?" Minion quavered.

"Minion! Can't you see that I'm busy? I told you to - _Roxanne_!" Green eyes went perfectly round as Megamind spotted her behind Minion's robotic bulk. "Ollo, uhm, hi Roxanne, hi, good morning, er…"

"What on earth are you doing?" she asked in amusement. "Surely you're not scared of a bunch of grade-schoolers."

"Me? No! Never!" he scoffed, and tried to draw himself up impressively. The effect was spoiled when he tripped over the improbable boots. He was up again in a trice, sniffing haughtily. "Afraid! Hah! I am _never_ afraid, particularly of some eensy-weensy little… small persons."

"What happened to your best quality?" she asked sceptically.

"Not applicable here," Minion hissed. "Ixnay on the avery-bray in a oolyard-shay."

"Minion!" snapped Megamind, whirling to no doubt berate his fishy friend in melodramatic style.

"So, you're afraid, then," Roxanne moved a couple of capes from one side of the couch and sat down expectantly.

He raised a declamatory finger, mouth open to object with operatic bravura.

"Truth, now," she said sternly, and then softened. "It's just me. You can tell me."

He deflated like a balloon. "Maybe," he muttered.

Minion rolled his eyes, and began to pick up the scattered clothing. "Finally, Mr. Stubborn," he grumbled.

Megamind shot his lifelong friend a dirty look.

"Well, that explains why you've got yourself done up like a triceratops," she remarked dryly. "Get that thing off, and come down from there. You look ridiculous."

"I always _ummmph_ look ridiculous," he mumbled sourly, pulling off the silly cape and collar and clomping over towards her like a baby giraffe. Flopping down beside her on the cape-strewn couch, he tugged half-heartedly at the absurd boots. "Comes with the blue and the head and all."

"This isn't like you," she noted and turned to face him, and clapped her hands imperiously. "Up. Come on now, give it here."

He looked startled, before succumbing warily to her urging to put his leg in her lap. "What do you mean? Leather, spikes, black. It's very me. Extremely. Overwhelmingly. I hear a fetish-shop wants to market a range named after me."

She started to untie the laces, careful of the spikes that lined the sides of the boot. "I mean this insecurity about image. You've always been… cocky, almost, about what you look like and how you present yourself. This is new. Is the school thing really that awful?"

She pretended she couldn't see Minion making '_nononononono!_' motions behind his boss's back.

Megamind's normally hyper-expressive face closed down. Completely. His eyebrows were drawn into a flat line and his lips were tight.

"O-kay," she said slowly. "So it is. Right." She pulled off the boot and put it on the floor beside them. "Next one."

His eyes softened slightly, and he tentatively raised his other leg. She grabbed his skinny shin and put it across her knees, starting to pull at the laces.

"I remember what you told me," she said carefully. "About school. Always the last one picked for everything."

His face snapped back to granite again. It never ceased to amaze her, how fast his emotions could move. As fast as his remarkable brain allowed, she supposed. "I tried," he said flatly.

"Tried?"

"Oh, how I tried and tried. To fit in, to be liked, to be _good_." His voice was still flat, bitter. She pulled off his other boot, and squeezed the narrow blue foot.

"Tell me," she said gently.

"I'm…" he broke off, and spotted Minion. "Look, can Minion tell you this? I'm not… great at talking about it."

"I'm not the one with the problem here, sir," Minion said pointedly, picking up the discarded boots. "I was pretty much left out of all the incidents. My job was to put you back together afterwards."

"You were hurt?" Roxanne was horrified. Megamind sighed, but his jaw remained tight and closed.

Minion nudged him with a fur-covered shoulder. "Go on, sir."

"I just don't like shools, okay!" Megamind blurted and curled up sulkily, rolling over so he faced the couch-back with his feet tucked under him.

Minion regarded his friend sadly. "That takes me back. You used to lie on the prison-cot like that every afternoon."

"Oh, go jump in a lake, Minion," Megamind groused.

"That's Saturdays, sir," Minion said placidly.

"How did they hurt you?" Roxanne snarled. She was already plotting stories and exposés about schoolyard bullying and its effects.

"Dgbll," mumbled Megamind.

"Pardon?"

"Dodgeball," Minion translated reluctantly. "He got a few broken bones and fractured ribs until he worked out his dodgeball-repelling-field helmet."

"My god, what did they use, cannonballs?" Roxanne was appalled. Megamind rolled over onto his back and regarded his ceiling (covered with glow-in-the-dark stars to accurate constellational measurements) thoughtfully.

"You didn't know?" he mused.

"Didn't know what?" she looked at him, then at Minion.

"Er," Minion said, putting on a bright, toothy grin, "I'll go see to putting all of this away, shall I?"

"Scaredy-fish," Megamind muttered as Minion hustled off into the inner recesses of the living quarters.

"Didn't know what?" she repeated insistently. "Megamind…"

He was suddenly very interested in his hands. "I thought he would have told you. I mean, you interviewed him a million times…"

"Metro Man…?" she hazarded, not liking the shape of where this was going. "You mean, when you said it was your old…"

"My old shoolhouse, yes," he stared at the back of his hands as though they held secrets beyond the ken of man or alien. "We were at shool together."

"He _broke_ your _ribs_?" her voice rose.

He winced. "Fractured my ribs. Broke my arm, twice, and three fingers… and my nose."

She could barely believe it. "And no-one said anything?"

"Oh come on, Roxanne!" He stood up abruptly, and paced over to the table, his face stormy. "Who was going to complain? The prison? And who at that shool ever gave a… a _damun_ about the blue kid with the big head? Oh no, it was Mr Perfect's world, and we were all just living in it to worship him. So if I was hurt, I'd _obviously_ brought it onto myself. Being such a bad influence, I'm sure they thought I'd deserved it."

"A bad influence…?" Roxanne stood and made to go over to him, but he began to pace, his long thin arms gesticulating wildly.

"I tried! But everything went so very, horribly wrong… the very first of my long line of catastrophic failures. I tried to make the pop-ped corn; I set it on fire. I tried to make the brown-ees; I make an organic chocolate explosive. I tried to use the paints of oil; I make a toxic fumigant. I tried to do well in the tests and exams; I end up correcting the questions. And running out of paper. Bad influence. Bad boys stand in the corner for quiet time, and the good boy gets another star on his stupid smug chest."

"What happened?" Roxanne asked, pity rising in her for her poor boyfriend, always on the outside looking in, still so painfully aware that his differences were wrong in the eyes of so many. How would that have felt for a child?

"I had an… is it pronounced… epip-hanny?" he quirked an eyebrow at her, his expression blackly sardonic in a way she'd never really seen before. If he'd looked like that as a villain, maybe she might have been afraid.

"Epiphany," she said weakly.

"One of them," he waved his fingers dismissively. "I was always in the corner for trying to be good. Always the bad boy without any effort. It was the only thing I _was_ good at. So why not embrace it?" He smirked darkly. "I made a paint bomb from art and cleaning supplies then and there, and turned everyone blue. I was expelled that afternoon."

He had stopped pacing at the table, his fingers were gripping so hard his knuckles had turned a white-blue. "I'm thirty four," he said miserably. "I should be over this. But when I think of shool, when I think of walking into one, it's…"

Roxanne laid a hand over his until his grip relaxed. He blew out a gusty breath and turned his hand over, allowing her to thread her fingers into his. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know you went through that."

He smiled, but there was no humour in it. "Yes, well," was all he said.

This was so unlike him, so unlike the Megamind she knew, that Roxanne was now slightly worried. "So… this all got dredged up because of the school talk today?"

He nodded slightly. "I… Roxanne, I think I _am_ afraid of children," he said slowly and with a note of panic.

"I don't blame you," she said dryly. "But Megamind, there's not likely to be another Wayne Scott amongst these kids. And they're more like you than you realise…"

His eyes met hers in a sidelong, disbelieving look. "Blue, are they?"

She smacked his side gently. "You know you've got that market cornered. No, I mean, people have been telling them what they can and can't be their whole lives. They live in a poor neighbourhood, in a rough part of town, and they're told every day in so many ways that they can't get out, can't strive for any more or live any better. It's why I encouraged you to take this request. You've got more in common than you think."

He looked calmer, and thoughtful now. "I see. I guess I do."

"You didn't seem that worked up about it when you said yes to it last week," she looped her arm around his impossibly thin body. He shrugged awkwardly, an arm settling gingerly around her shoulders. After three whole months, he was still so unsure about touching her, or being touched in return.

"Well, I didn't think much of it last week, really," he admitted. "There was that leak at the chemical plant, and then I designed a new hoverpack, and then another city sweep rota for the brainbots, and the mayor wanted to know if I could do anything about the waste disposal problems, and that got me thinking about compounds or possibly controlled radiation to speed up the breakdown of plastics and polymers and…"

"Okay, Mr. Science, stop there," she laughed. He looked a bit sheepish.

"I'm sorry about all that," he said suddenly. "I didn't mean to heap all my old shool angst on you first thing in the morning. That was rude."

"It's okay," she said, squeezing him. "It's okay."

"I just… I want them to like me," he said a trifle desperately, and as though a window had been opened into a closed dark room, Roxanne could abruptly see just how lonely he'd been his whole life. Only Minion to talk to, ever. She bit back her gasp, and softly kissed his near shoulder.

"They'll like you."

Then she had an idea. "Hey, do you have any pictures?"

He blinked. "Pictures?"

"Of you at school," she clarified.

"One or two," he scratched at the back of his long neck. "I think Minion… no, wait…" and he whistled. Two brainbots whizzed through the still-open door and bowged expectantly.

"Okay, Rusty, Butch," he said clearly, holding up a finger before them, "Daddy needs the box on the top shelf of the wardrobe. The top shelf. Don't drop it!" he added as they bowged enthusiastically and zoomed away. Then he turned to Roxanne and asked, "why would you need pictures, anyway?"

"You're dating a woman who is employed to be curious," she said impishly, and he laughed, though it was a bit shaky.

"She is very good at her job then," he said with a strained smile, and she tugged at him until he sat back down on the couch with her.

"Megamind, it's okay to not be totally over this. It sounds like it ended up defining your whole life, and that's a lot to overcome in just three months." She scooted closer to him until she could rest her head against the flat of his shoulder. His strange heartbeat, three beats instead of two, thudded in her ear like a dance. "Don't think that you're somehow wrong because it was so long ago, or that you should have put it behind you simply because of your age. There's no _should_ in any of this. You've never talked to anyone about it at all, have you?"

He shifted against her, narrow body taut with tension. "Well, the prison psychologist, once or twice. And Minion, obviously. But Minion actually listened."

That was interesting. "What did the psychologist say?"

He snorted. "That I was transferring blame onto my teacher and fellow students for my own actions. She was a _prison_psychologist. That's what most prisoners _do_."

Roxanne scowled again. "That's stupid. You were just a kid!"

"She didn't like me," he shrugged. His jaw tightened again.

"I like you," she looked up at him through her lashes, hoping it would divert him from all that tension. He smiled that warm, closed-mouth smile down at her. The special smile that was only for her. Her breath caught.

"Thank you for that," he said, very gently.

"No need," she breathed back, and brought his head down for a kiss.

"Bowg!"

"Arrgh!" he broke away from her in a flail of stick-thin limbs at the electronic interruption. "Go away, can't you see that Daddy's busy! I am going to rewrite you lot a whole new set of parameters, and this time you'll…"

"They've got that box," Roxanne pointed out, and the reddish bot answered with a petulant "bowg-owg!"

"Oh," Megamind rubbed at his chin. "Ah, well, Daddy's sorry for shouting. Thank you, Butch, Rusty."

The box was deposited with a snippy 'bowg!' into Megamind's lap, and he sighed as the two brainbots sailed huffily out of the room. "I'm going to have to play fetch for an hour later to get them to forgive me," he groaned.

Roxanne giggled, and then tapped the box with her fingernails. It was just a shoebox, the sort anyone would use to keep old photos and random keepsakes in. "So what's in here?"

"Clippings, letters, photos…" Megamind took off the slightly battered lid and rummaged through bundles of paper, some yellowing with age, some held together with ancient, sticky elastic bands and some shoved into envelopes. Roxanne was fascinated.

"I'd love to look through it with you sometime," she said honestly.

He gave her an amused look. "Off the record?"

"Off the record," she confirmed, and then scrunched her nose. "Well…"

"Knew you couldn't resist," he chuckled, getting back to rummaging.

"I'd always ask before going to print or to air," she said defensively.

"I knew you were a journalist, I knew what I was getting into," he smiled, but his smile turned a trifle rueful as his long clever fingers drew out an envelope emblazoned with 'METRO CITY STATE PRISON FOR THE CRIMINALLY GIFTED' and handed it to her. "Here we are."

She checked his face first, but he nodded to her hands, and so she opened the old envelope delicately and drew out the contents. Immediately she was faced with a photo of children, all around the age of seven.

Metro Man was easy to pick out. He had a golden sweater tied around his neck (practising for a cape, perhaps?) and his beefy arms around two other children, all beaming cheesily for the camera. Surrounding them were yet more children, also grinning. A couple of the kids were looking at the muscular boy with expressions of adoration. Behind him was the teacher, a lady perhaps a bit younger than Roxanne now, smiling in a satisfied way. A nice little school group photo, but for one thing.

To the right stood Megamind, just as easy to spot as Wayne. His smile was tiny and hopeful, his child's body just as thin as his adult's, clad in an orange prison suit. Minion was smaller and less ferocious-looking, in a glass globe held by his friend's small hands. Megamind's face was rounder, his chin less pointed, his eyebrows thinner and his expression more open.

They were all alone.

"Oh, look at you," Roxanne murmured.

"Please don't say something about how cute I was," he said in a slightly perturbed voice.

"Well, you _were_ cute," she pointed out. "Look at those big, big eyes! Not that you're not cute now," she added slyly, and watched with delight as that violet blush spread over his cheeks. "If you're in need of 'revaange', I'll bring along a photo of me at school next time and you can giggle at my pigtails."

"You had pigtails?" His eyebrows shot up and he grinned his old, wickedly pleased grin. "That would have been fun."

"You would have been the boy to pull them, I know," she nudged him.

"Not then," he nodded to the photo a bit sadly. "I was still trying, then."

"So I see," she studied the small blue face in the old picture. "Why were you in a prison jumpsuit? Surely the warden could have found you some other clothes…"

"Well," Megamind leaned back against the leather couch. "There were a few outfits, from charity shops and the like, but I tended to be rough on them. Organic chocolate explosives are not kind to perishable things like clothes, books, buildings, that sort of thing. The jumpsuits were sturdier. Besides, it was a bit hard to find things that fit over my head that weren't too big for me in the body… things with zips and buttons weren't always available…" he looked a bit uncomfortable. She patted his knee.

"I can imagine," she said, and flipped over to the only other photo.

It was a picture of a large group of burly men, some orange-suited and some guard-uniformed. They were all smiling proudly. Seated in the middle of the group was a blue toddler clutching that same glass globe. Small Megamind was beaming with baby-toothed delight. Roxanne couldn't help it. She squealed.

"So _cute_," she cooed. Megamind rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"This was a horrible mistake," he moaned. "Please stop?"

"This is a part of the whole boyfriend experience," she pointed out with a quirked smile, "and since your parents can't be here to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend, your girlfriend has to do it for them."

"Thank you for making it so comprehensive," he said dryly, and she grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it.

"These are your uncles, then?" she asked.

"Mmm. Some have passed on now, of course, but there's the warden, there, and uncles 45090 through to 45113 are still around, either on the inside or out. Uncle 45094 was released last year – I should go visit."

"Were they all called by number?" she raised her eyebrow. "Were _you_?"

He bit his lip. "Yes."

She sat up straighter. "You have a number, instead of a name?"

"Sort of," he squirmed. "I was… I was Syx."

"Six?" she repeated. "Just Six?"

"Y instead of an I," he corrected with the ease of long practise, and then blushed faintly some more. "Um. It was a small… spelling error."

"Cute," she said with finality.

"Stop," he said weakly. "Have mercy."

"What, when I have you in my eeevil clutches?" she said mischievously, and watched his face darken to violet again. "Okay, I'll stop, I'll stop."

"What was the point behind this exercise in humiliation?" he groused, and she gave him a victorious little smile.

"To get you to talk about it," she said smugly. He huffed in indignation.

She handed him the photos and the envelope, and his nimble fingers slotted it back into the box. He rested a hand on the lid, and she felt rather than heard his sigh.

"Look," she grabbed his hand again and pulled him to face her. His expression was reluctant and resigned. "Just… just be yourself. Don't try to be anything else. These kids… they can relate to all this. The less-than-perfect background, the not-fitting-in, being in trouble at school… just talk to them about it. They'll like you – heck, most of the city _loves_ you. You don't need armour or a big show. They'd probably like to meet Minion, and have a demonstration of your de-gun or something – but the big thing here for them is the same as it was for you. They don't want to be left out, or left behind."

His poison-green eyes flicked down to her hand in his, and then up. "How can you say that the city l-_loves_ me…? Three months ago I was ruling it with an iron fist!"

She snorted. "After a childish spree of property damage that lasted only a week, that iron fist turned into a spaghetti noodle. You put everything back, cleaned everything up, and we've never been so safe. Even criminals put a lid on their activities – your brainbot eyes were everywhere."

"I still took over, Roxanne," he said morosely. "They can't possibly have forgiven me that."

"I'm not done," she said with a quelling look. "Besides that, you fixed the damage Hal did in under a week. That is no small deal, Megamind - it was _huge_. We are talking billions-of-dollars, public-works-for-years _huge_. Then there's the transport system upgrade you designed, and the pollution-cubing ray you used on the lake – it's _never_ been so clean! – and all the robberies and muggings you stop every day. I won't even start on the program you wrote to prevent electronic theft. It's only been three months, and the changes are already amazing. Oh, they love you, believe it."

He waved all that away with his free hand. "That! But that's all just… stuff. Piffle. Easy. I _took over the city!_ And I _wanted_to! If Wayne hadn't come clean, they'd still believe I killed him! And, well… look at me!"

Roxanne snagged his flapping hand out of mid-air and bunched it together with his other between her own, shaking them firmly. "No, you look at me! There's no need for that any more – you don't have to be that boy any more! You're not surrounded by those children and you're not going to be punished for being different. Never again, hear me? Megamind, how you look isn't so important. You've already shown us who you really are, and you're good. You're _good_. We like you."

His eyes had gone impossibly wide. He stared helplessly at her.

She swallowed, and looked away from that piercingly green gaze. "Some of us do a bit more than like you," she said, feeling unaccountably shy.

His lips parted slightly in a silent 'oh!' and his eyes, if anything, got even wider.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that," she mumbled, and tugged his head down for a kiss to cover her embarrassment.

His mouth was initially slack with his shock, but abruptly he started kissing her in earnest, his thumbs sliding up her face and long fingers ruffling the hair at her nape. She was always startled at the feel of his lips – silky and somehow cool to the touch. "Some of us…" she murmured against his lips, and was distracted by the delicacy of a pointed shell-pink ear.

"Mmm?" His voice had dropped lower. She shivered.

"Some of us… like it.. a lot," she said against his cheekbone. "The way you are…"

"Oh?" Megamind drew back slightly to look at her, lingering traces of shock still around his eyes. Then a lascivious smirk crossed his lips. "Oh, Ms Ritchi, tell me more."

She slapped at his skinny chest, her face reddening, and he laughed sheepishly. Then she smoothed her hand out where she had hit him, feeling that waltz-like heartbeat pattering against her palm. She stared blankly at the back of her hand before meeting his eyes again.

His face was very open and vulnerable, almost as open as in that picture of him as a little boy. His brief joke had been to cover his own nervousness, she saw. He simply couldn't believe that she accepted him, that anyone could. It had been folded into his personality from infancy.

She lifted her chin. Well, good thing she'd always enjoyed a challenge.

"I love your heartbeat," she said defiantly.

He blinked. "Roxanne, you don't actually have to tell me…"

"I like the way it sounds like a dance," she forged over the top of his backpedalling. "I like how skinny you are. I can wrap my arms all the way around your chest and my hands around your knees. I love that you seem so frail, but you're so tough. I like that you're my height. I like not having to stand on tiptoe to kiss you."

He really was extremely boggled now. His mouth was opening and closing, and he was paling to a bluish-white. She plowed on.

"I love your eyes," she reached a hand to lazily trace one eyebrow. "No human ever had such eyes. Green like poison, like gemstones. I like these," she tapped the eyebrow gently, and it twitched upwards. "You're so expressive. It's like you never learned to put your facial brakes on in public, the way the rest of us do. And I love this," she tugged his goatee, "and these…" she placed a finger on his lips, "and this…"

At the last, she kissed him, and he dove into her mouth with a touch of desperation. He kissed her as though she held the answers to everything, his mouth moving hard against hers, a bit messily. She groaned as he clutched her a little too tightly, and his shaking arms loosened a little. She leaned her forehead against his as he tried to regain his breath.

"I like your ears," she whispered. He giggled weakly, his breath puffing against her face. "I like the shape and colour. I like that in full sunlight they're translucent. I love your hands."

He brought one up and clasped hers. She shifted it so she could see the burn-marks, the blue nails. "I like how long your fingers are, and how clever and nimble they look when you're working. I like the scars," she traced one.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards as he watched her thumb dance over his. His eyes were now suspiciously glassy.

"I _love_ your skinny little butt," she said suddenly and with relish, surprising a choked laugh out of him. "And I love that laugh," she said in a softer voice. "The real one," she added.

His smile was a bit apologetic. He'd found some sort of calm, though his eyes were still far too shiny and bright. He just watched her and listened.

"I like your voice," she said dreamily, and stroked his goatee again. "I love that long neck of yours. That pointed chin. But especially, Megamind… _Syx_…"

She straightened, and looked directly at him. "I love your great big head," she said firmly, and pulled it down to kiss it.

When she pulled away, she saw that his glittering eyes were now brimming.

"How could I not," she said gently, "when it's got such a wonderful brain inside it?"

He made a strangled noise, and stuffed the heel of his hand into his mouth to stop it. She pulled it away, and held it tightly in hers.

"And I _love_ blue," she whispered.

His eyelids snapped shut, forcing two tears to cut a track down his face. "Roxanne…" he breathed brokenly.

She wiped her thumbs under his eyes, though more tears were threatening. "Come here," she said, leaning back and opening her arms.

With just a moment's hesitation, he fell against her, his heavy head pillowed under her chin. She could feel him shaking still, and knew he probably had his eyes clenched to stop the excess of emotion. It was something he was still very bad at coping with.

"Roxanne…" he mumbled against her collarbone, and she could feel his teeth gritting.

"Hey now," she soothed. "Shh. We need to get you cleaned up. Off to make a speech today. It's at nine o'clock. Good boys are punctual."

He huffed a laugh against her throat. "Oh, Roxanne, you…" she heard, before there was an inelegant sniff and he sat up, rubbing his face roughly.

"Let me look," she said, sitting up straighter. He kept his hands in place and shook his head stubbornly. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his wrists and pulled them away.

His eyes were fine, but his cheeks and nose had turned a violent fuschia. She stifled a laugh. "You need cold water. Go have a shower or something. And wear a shirt. No intimidating the children," she pointed out, and he nodded meekly.

"Roxanne, I…" he broke off, and looked away. "No one has ever done that before," he said in a quiet voice.

"What's that…?" she stroked his ravaged cheek.

"Accepted… all of me. Except, well… Minion." He looked a bit hesitant for a moment, and then a touch of his usual bravura crept into his face. "You know what, I'm tired of waiting for a right time, because there's never right times, or if there are then they all are, or they're all wrong times, but that's not important right now, what's important… what's really important…"

He rubbed his hands roughly over his scalp and took a huge breath, before cupping her chin gently between his fingers. His eyes pinned her to the spot. "Roxanne, I love you. I love you more than anything. I love you more than hydrogen loves oxygen. I love you more than gravity loves mass. I love you more than a compass loves true north. And you…" he stopped, his throat working furiously, then he continued hoarsely, "… and you are true north to me."

She looked at him helplessly. "You…" Her breath. Where was her breath?

"I love you," he repeated, though he was starting to sound a little panicked. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I – am I not saying it right?"

"That's right," she said faintly. "You…"

"You mean you couldn't tell?" his voice rose incredulously. "Roxanne, are you feeling well? Usually you've got this sort of thing figured out before me. I mean, you're so.."

She put two fingers over his mouth, stopping his babble. "You," she choked, a huge, improbable, _impossible_ happiness clawing her throat, "have always talked entirely too much."

And with that, she glued her lips to his. She tried to lock the memory, the shape of this moment into her head. His worried expression faded to startled happiness as she wrapped her hands along his narrow face and drank him down.

"You are the most idiotic genius I know," she huffed against his soft blue lips.

"Does that mean that you…" he began, and she shut him up.

"Yes, it means that I," she eventually answered back, feeling slightly giddy. She was sure her grin would take off the top of her head.

"You're not kidding?" Those eyes should be _illegal_.

"I'm not kidding," she confirmed.

The puppy-dog eyes unfocused. "Oh. Oh, _wow_."

"Lost for words?" she teased him. His face was still flushed from his earlier catharsis, but was otherwise the most perfect expression of joy she'd ever seen.

"Wow," he insisted, and wrapped lanky arms around her, holding her gently as though she could fly away at any moment. "Wow works."

"I guess it does," she smiled, resting her head on his chest. A waltz at double-time greeted her. Usually she would feel the need to move, change the subject, anything to get away from the exposure of a moment of emotional revelation, but to her pleasant surprise, she was peaceful enough where she was. Perhaps because he'd just shown her so much of who he was, it was less scary. In fact, wrapped in his arms, she felt a quiet sort of joy. Her ear pressed against his narrow chest, and she ran her hand against the leather. "Bom-buh-buh, bom-buh-buh…" she murmured in time to that heartbeat.

"What language is this?" he asked languidly, and she gave a low chuckle.

"It's the rhythm it makes," she said, tapping on his chest. "It's a waltz."

"A… walertz?"

"Waltz. It's a dance," she corrected, her smile in her voice. "One you don't have time to learn today. You'd better go get ready."

"Mmm. Comfortable," he protested, and she poked his skinny ribs.

"Go on, you. I'll come too, get a few quotes. It'll make for nice publicity later," she kissed his fragile-looking collarbone.

"A shirt? Really? Not even the teensiest of spikes?" he whined, and she rolled her eyes.

"Get going." She slapped his hip, and stood. "I'll go see if Minion has fixed the coffeemaker."

"Uh, yeah, about that…" he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've sort of cannibalised the internals, so…"

"And poor Minion doesn't know?" She folded her arms. He looked abashed.

"Well, I pulled it apart at about 3am las-_this_ morning, because I had this incredibly brilliant and astoundingly clever idea for a sound propelled… _anyway_, I didn't want to wake him, and then there was trying to decide what to wear to this shool thing…"

She shook her head in fond exasperation. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Why Ms Ritchi," he purred, taking her hand and kissing the back. He looked up at her beneath lowered lids. "I have a few suggestions…"

* * *

_AN: The name 'Syx' was dreamed up by the incredibly handsome authorial genius Silver Shepherd, in the fic, 'Times Syx.'  
_


	2. Chapter 2

He eventually emerged looking none the worse for wear, dressed in black pants that seemed to heighten his skinniness, a belt with his logo for a buckle, and a black collared button-up shirt. He kept flipping the collar up - Roxanne had to fold it back down twice.

Drawing up in front of the school, Megamind bit his lip and shifted his knees nervously. "You know what, you two go on, I'll go patrol or something, Minion, why don't you take this one, kids like you…"

"Oh no you don't," Roxanne said firmly, and grabbed his hand. "Brave heroes like you go out and face their fears. And Megamind doesn't run from a fight. Come on, mister…" She hauled him out of the invisible car. He stood fidgeting on the sidewalk, his face apprehensive. She melted a little in concern. "Look. They'll like you. Promise."

He pursed his lips and gave her a doubtful look. "You said that earlier. I'm afraid the evidence is against you."

"You haven't seen all the proof, so how can you make it a law?" she said logically, appealing to his scientific side.

He scrunched his nose. "Well, it's more a working theory."

"Work your theory right through that door then," she retorted, pointing to the hall. "They're all waiting for you."

He gulped.

Minion had emerged from the driver's door after turning the car visible. He locked it with a _beepbeep!_ and threw the keys into his bowl. "This has worked before, Ms Ritchi," he said slyly.

Megamind looked as though he were about to say something acidic, but thought better of it. "Pestilential piscine," he muttered.

"You'd miss me, Sir," Minion said cheerily. "Come on, let's go brighten their day!"

Roxanne put a reassuring hand on Megamind's shoulder as they followed the robot-suited fish down the path towards the school's hall. "You'll be fine. You've got lots in common, remember?"

"I know, I know…" he sighed. "Well…" he straightened his skinny shoulders. "Here goes."

The hall was packed. That was Roxanne's first impression. Kids of all ages, of all colours, lined the stands and sat cross-legged on the parquet flooring. Teachers ringed the edges, their faces stressed and drawn.

Her second impression was _noise_.

The minute Minion led the way into the hall, every throat in the place let out an almighty cheer. Megamind balked so hard he practically backed into her, and she had to gently push him forwards to join the waving Minion. The minute he did so, the volume _doubled_.

"Heh," he said in bemused amazement, and shot an incredulous look back to her. She shooed him on with both hands, grinning and mouthing 'told you!'

Shouldering his boom-box, Minion pressed play. "Bat Out Of Hell' by Meatloaf began.

He made his way behind the cheerily whooping Minion up towards the stage, whilst Roxanne leaned against the back wall and folded her arms in satisfaction.

Once more she was privy to witness another of his rapid-fire changes in emotion. His befuddlement was quickly turning to delight. He tried a little dance move, and a veritable chorus of screams met it. The resulting grin almost split his face, and he got a little more into it as Minion lumbered up the stairs onto the stage, grabbed the microphone and checked to see if it was on.

"Sir!"

"Ahhhahahaheeeee… what?" Megamind stopped mid-spin, and Minion jerked his 'head'.

"Oh, right," Megamind gave the hooting crowd an embarrassed look. "Yes, quite right, yes, talking. Ahem."

"It's on," Minion tossed him the microphone, and stopped the music. Thankfully, nothing else began. Both the blue alien and the reporter subtly relaxed.

"Ollo there!" Megamind tried, and was almost knocked backwards by the ensuing wall of sound. "Wow. You make a lot of noise. Really, a lot. That is a serious weapon you have there… no, no, not inventing time, Minion, I know, I know!" he hissed back at his friend who was clearing his throat. A titter ran through the hall.

"Well, um…" he faltered. He hadn't prepared anything to say. He'd been far too agitated about the whole shool thing. But apparently Roxanne had been right.

_Roxanne_. She was standing at the back of the hall, a small smile on her lovely face.

"You know," he began, "I really had no idea what I was going to talk about with you. Really. I was actually…" he met her eyes again. She nodded.

He steeled himself. "I was afraid of coming here today," he confessed.

A shocked gasp, then a murmur ran through the hall. "Why?" someone called.

"Well, I didn't like shool… er, shkool… ah, I can't say it. _Shool_. You know what I mean. Well, I don't like them. My shool-life was fairly miserable." He fiddled with the microphone cord, wondering how to proceed.

Minion saw his dilemma, grabbed the hand that was holding the microphone and brought it up to his dome. "And mine! Whoa, boy, can I tell you some stories. Do _not_ ask me about football. But sir had it the worst."

"Right, _thank you_, Minion," Megamind pulled his hand back with a jerk, and began to glare at his friend, before sighing and putting a hand on the glass bowl. "It wasn't a great time for either of us, was it?"

Minion just looked at his boss with sympathetic eyes. Megamind sighed again, and turned to his audience, though his hand stayed against Minion's bowl.

"Now, you might imagine that a person of my gifts, intelligence, and stunningly handsome good looks might have it easy in shool," he said, preening slightly. "But no. Ohohoho, no. After all, I was also blue, bald…"

"Big-headed," Minion put in helpfully.

"Had an annoying fish-friend," Megamind said testily.

"Skinny," Minion added cheerfully.

"A _very_ annoying fish-friend," Megamind grated, tapping his fingers against the glass.

"Astronomically bright," Minion said hurriedly.

"That's better," he sniffed, unruffling his metaphorical feathers, and clearing his throat.

"Made inventions that tended to melt desks," Minion stage-whispered, and Megamind's eyebrows shot up. Roxanne's clear laughter soared through the hall.

"You're doing great, sir!" Minion said in an aside.

"You can stop helping now, Minion," Megamind said between very gritted teeth.

"Oh, right, right…" Minion took a few paces off and tried to look innocent.

"Hm," Megamind folded one arm across his chest, eyeing the fish suspiciously, before turning back to the children. "Well, the point is, I was different. Very different. As far as I know, Minion and I are the last of our kinds, and so there's not likely to be any more like us. I'm not likely to run into one in some freak co-eeencidence on holiday," he said dryly. Many of the teachers snorted at that.

"And a lot of people don't like different," he continued, starting to feel very exposed. He moved his free hand under his mic-arm, crossing his body more completely. "The students, the teacher… but there was something else, too. I was brought up in… a not so nice place."

"I know, I know this, it was prison!" yelled a boy's voice, and Megamind craned to see who it could be.

"Who… Roxanne, did you print that?" he asked, and she shrugged exaggeratedly, shaking her head. "Not too many people know that… could you stand up, please?"

There was a brief scuffle, and then a boy of about ten with coffee skin, curly hair and burly shoulders stood awkwardly. Megamind tipped his head. "Now, you look a bit familiar…"

"It was my granpa," the boy blurted. "He was in prison with you. He had stories about you."

"Oh!" Megamind clicked his fingers and turned to Minion. "Uncle 45101!"

"Of course, sir!" Minion beamed down at the boy, who gave a shy but real smile back. "And how is he?"

"He's getting on, Mr… Minion," the boy said, clearly uncomfortable.

"I should really visit," Megamind fretted. "What's your name?"

"Elliott, Mr ah, Megamind," he answered, his fingers twitching. "Can I sit down now?"

"Polite, isn't he?" Minion noted.

"That'd be Uncle '101, always liked the formal forms of address," Megamind nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, sit down. Um. Yes! You are correct, Elliot '101! I _did_ grow up in a prison!" He raised a declamatory finger to emphasise the statement.

A hand shot up in the second tier of the stands.

"Why… why is she doing that?" Megamind whispered. Unfortunately he whispered directly into the microphone, and the hissed question bounced off the walls.

"She wants to ask a question, I believe," Minion whispered back.

"Ohhhh," he said slowly, nodding. "Um, yes? Question?"

"Why did you grow up there?" the girl with elaborate, anime styled and coloured hair and massive boots asked.

"Oh. Uh, good question!" he scratched his chin. "Well, at first it was because we landed there. Then I think it's because if they'd let go of us, the scientists would have wanted to cut bits off us and put them in petri dishes. At least, that's what I gather. No one's ever really told me."

"Whoa, harsh," said an older boy down the front. Megamind nodded with violent agreement, though his fingers spread in resigned acceptance.

"I know, right? So I get to deal with being blue and bald and _thank you Minion, that will be all_ and weirdly smart and all of that, plus living in a prison, plus the nebulous and utterly charming prospect of vivisection someday. So like I said? Different. Far, _far_ too different.

"For some people, the thing they took issue with wasn't my skin or generous cranial capacity or lack of hair… it was that I came from that place every day, wore that uniform, had no money. That was a whole lot of fun," he added sourly, and a knowing laugh rose from the kids. They knew that tune, all right.

"All these things made me feel horrible, made me an outcast all the time," he said seriously. "At least I wasn't totally alone. I had Minion, and sometimes my uncles. But there were two things about shool which were the absolute worst. One was the bullying."

He paused for the gasp and whispers that ran through the hall.

"The other was, well, I guess you could call it negative expectation," he sighed, and sat down on the stage steps.

"What do you mean?" asked a small girl sitting near him. He smiled a bit ruefully.

"People always told me I was bad," he told her directly. She looked awed, like he was telling her a big, big secret. "I wasn't really, I was a little boy, trying to do little boy things. But because they didn't like the way I looked, or where I came from, or the way I tried to fit in…"

"Melted desks," Minion said sagely.

"Yeah," Megamind sighed. "Melted desks. I tried to fit in the only way I knew how: using my brain. My experiments… didn't always go to plan."

He looked around at all the hushed children, all their craning faces. "They told me I was bad, over and over again. And after a while, I believed them. It was easy to be bad. I was good at it. So I just gave in and became what they expected of me."

"Whoa," breathed the boy named Elliott.

"You became a supervillain at schoo-uh, _shool_?" gawked the older boy near the front.

"Not right away," Megamind said reluctantly. "I was just a kid. But I made the decision then. I think I was eight or so." He squinted at Minion, who gave him a look. "Okay, all right, so I was eight years, three months, four days and fifteen hours old. And thirty six minutes."

Children's voices echoed through the hall in amazed susurration.

"Eight!"

"Do you think he can remember down to the _seconds_?"

"Awesome…"

"Eight years old, no _way_."

"So. Cool."

"No! No it wasn't, it was extremely not cool! It was the absolute _opposite_ of cool! It was the scorching atom-smashing surface of the sun! Listen – I _believed_ them. I _believed_ them when they told me what I was, what I could be. I shouldn't have," he said, his face very hard. "But I did. And for twenty six years, I set about trying to prove them _right_."

"Some genius you are," remarked an older girl sarcastically, and Megamind raised a cutting eyebrow at her. She subsided immediately, and he regretted it.

"No, you're right," he admitted. "That was dumb."

The resulting titter around the hall felt like a release of tension.

"At the time, though, I thought it was destiny, fate. I was going to be the very best at _something_ – and it might as well be at being bad. My apparent 'gift'. Idiotic, inane conclusion with only half the data required and no control elements," he spat, and then winced. "Sorry. It was only two hours ago that I talked about this for the first time in almost thirty years," he said apologetically. "I hope you'll forgive me if it's a bit, er… close to the surface."

He stood suddenly, and the children nearest to him jerked back at the abruptness, not used to his dramatic movements. "Anyway, my point here is… I _do_ like your boots," he pointed to the anime-haired girl, who giggled and hid her face against her friend's back. "Where did you get them? Do they come with spikes?"

"Sir," Minion muttered.

"Yes, I suppose we could add the spikes ourselves," he mused. The children were laughing again. Megamind beamed. This was easy!

"The point, sir?" Minion prompted.

"Oh, right, the point," he pulled himself together. "Is this: No matter what you look like, or where you live, or what people say about you, or what you're good at, or where you came from – no matter how far away – don't believe others when they tell you you're this or that or the other. _Especially_ if they tell you you're bad. They're wrong. People are just… people, no matter what. You can do good things, you can get it right, and you _can_ win.

"Besides," he sniffed, "Bad gets melon-kolly. It's lonely, and cold, and damp, and it's hell for rust, and you do _not _want to know about the rats. Believe _me_."

"Well done, Sir!" Minion said proudly as the clapping began. Megamind met Roxanne's eyes, and he gave her that small special smile again. She smiled back warmly, clapping loudly and strongly, her face full of affection and pride.

"So, we're done, yes?" he mouthed to her. She shook her head.

"We're not?" he said aloud in dismay, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She doubled over laughing.

"There's usually a question and answer thing after these talks," Minion hissed into his ear.

"Usually a… how do you know that?" he turned to glare at Minion.

"Movies, sir. And open seminars at the university in the Oceanographical Research department this month," Minion replied in an undertone. "You might want to turn your glare down a few notches, some of these kids are pretty young."

And it was such a _good_ glare. Oh well. He turned back to the kids with a sinking feeling. "And they can ask me _anything_? Who agreed to this?"

"Ah, you did, sir," Minion said, grinning.

"Oh, what fun," Megamind pinched the bridge of his nose, before raising his head to be greeted with a sea of raised hands. "And I can't call time-out?"

"No, sir," Minion chirped. Megamind groaned.

"Okay, I am going to choose… ten questions! Only ten! Because I am very, very new at this… social interaction with immature personages in a friendly environment… thing!" He pasted on a bright smile. "Okay, you!"

"D'you know which planet you're from?" gasped the preteen who stood hurriedly, and sat back down as though being too long in Megamind's direct sight would somehow melt him.

"I never heard its name," Megamind said slowly. "I don't know what it was called. It was royal blue when we took off. It was in the Triangulum Galaxy, sector NGC 604 point gamma, in the Glaupunkt Quandrant."

"You have to understand, I was maybe three months old, and sir was only eight days old when we were packed into our pod," Minion added.

"You can remember what it looked like?" gaped a heavy-set teacher.

"Sir remembers everything," Minion said simply. Megamind gave an uncomfortable half-shrug.

"Not quite everything, Minion," he said awkwardly. "There are those five unaccounted-for minutes after my birth."

The heavy-set teacher rocked back against the stand-rail, staring at Megamind as though he were the answer to every educator's prayer.

"Should I count that one? He didn't have his hand up," Megamind looked quizzically between Minion and to Roxanne. Minion held up his hands in cluelessness, but Roxanne shook her head.

"Ah, right, no, no, not counting that one then," he nodded to her. She gave him a thumbs-up.

"Can I pick the next one, sir?" Minion bounced between his gorilla feet, and Megamind waved permission. "Okay… you!"

This little girl had been straining so hard, she resembled a badly-tethered balloon. "Why-do-you-call-him-sir-and-why-is-your-name-Minion-and-were-you-always-called-Megamind?" she babbled in one breath, before taking another huge gulp of air. "Minion-you-are-so-cute-my-friends-and-I-like-_love-_you-can-I-get-your-autograph?"

There was a pause in which the silence was very, very loud.

Then Megamind started laughing. A full, from the belly sound of happiness that not many in the city had heard. It startled some of the assembled, perhaps thinking his standard laugh was a villainous one. This was as natural as bubbling spring water. His head tipped back and his shoulders shook, and the sound was so infectious the crowd began to chuckle along with him. "Young lady," he chortled, "That was priceless… that was _four_ questions in two breaths! A stellar career as a racing commentator awaits!"

"You understood all that, sir?" Minion's brown eyes were wide with incomprehension.

"Mmm," he wiped at his eyes, "aheh, well, Minion, why are you called Minion, and why call me sir? Take the floor, your turn now!" He pushed his friend into the centre, and handed over the mic. Then he theatrically took over the spot where Minion had stood, and exaggeratedly linked his fingers and flexed his hands outwards in readiness. The children laughed. Megamind winked. This was so _easy_… why had he been so afraid?

"Uhhh," Minion eyed the practically-levitating little girl with trepidation. "Well, sir's parents picked me out when I was hatched to be the life-long companion to their unborn son… they implanted the voice-activator and taught me the essentials about their race. We gained the ability to travel and talk, and a lot of status in return. This was apparently pretty common on our world, though I don't remember that… a lot of sir's people had minions, well, 'minion' is how it translates, but it could also be 'helper' or 'useful friend' - once or twice it's been 'selfless and devoted fish whom nobody ever appreciates'…"

"Stick to the point, Minion," Megamind threw his hands up.

"Right, right… anyway, there was a thing, like a title… There is absolutely _no_ human translation for it as far as I know. I was taught to always call my new friend by that name. 'Sir' is the closest human one… in English, I guess. I haven't checked the other languages."

"She wants your autograph," Megamind stage-whispered, enjoying his turn as the heckler.

"She whaaaaa?" Minion did a double-take between his friend and the hyperventilating child. His toothy lower jaw dropped slightly. "Um, after? Maybe after the talk?"

She let go of her breath so gustily, she slid off her seat. Minion winced.

"She had another question," Roxanne called sweetly, her hand demurely up.

"Roxanne?" Megamind squinted, tilted his head, then his eyes opened wide. "Oh no. Not for public use, Roxanne. That only counted as two."

She subsided, her eyes twinkling at him. He folded his arms, and tried to look stern and forbidding. It had the same effect on her that it always did. She rolled her eyes.

"Um, that one?" Minion pointed to an older boy, hair in cornrows. He slouched to his feet.

"So like, how'd they bully you an' that? You're Megamind! Couldn't you just…" he aimed an imaginary gun, "zap 'em outta your way?"

Minion reached blindly for his boss's hand, shoved the microphone into it and scurried back to the relative safety of the heckling corner.

"Thanks, 'helper'," Megamind said wryly, and Minion gave him that sweet little face that always made him forgive the fish's sillier pranks.

There was another _THUD_ from the direction of the hyperactive Minion fan.

Megamind bit his lip. "Well, I hadn't really come to that epip-hanny yet," he said ruefully. "I created the Mark I Dehydration Gun when I was seven years, four months, six days and nine hours old… but I was still trying very hard to be good, for people to like me. It was the day I made that decision, the one I told you about? Yes, the very dumb one, well done… it was that day that I was expelled. So I didn't get the chance to well, 'zap' them, as you say. As to how they bullied me, well, I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm not the largest person in the room. And I'm blue."

The kids chuckled. Megamind held his hands out in theatrical resignation.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" the little girl he had spoken to earlier near the front suddenly cried, her hand shooting up. "Oh please! Oh, oh, here, oh, oh, pick me, oh!"

"I think she might explode if we don't pick her," Minion said solemnly.

"She may turn violent," Megamind agreed with equal solemnity. "Yes?"

"Can you pleeeeeease dehydrate something?" she begged with wide-open eyes.

"I thought that one might turn up," said Minion humorously. "Sir!" He held up his boom-box.

"Ah, nice work, Minion! Ready? Now, _pull_!" he rolled dramatically as Minion launched the thing into the air. A burst of blue ice later, and the shiny cube tinkled to the stage. The children burst into cheers.

"We need water," Megamind said through the corner of his mouth.

"Leave it to me, sir," Minion said grandiosely, opened his bowl's sliding lid, and tipped his 'head' slightly. A flash, and the boombox sat upside-down on the stage, none the worse for its trip.

"Ta dah!" Megamind flung out his hands proudly.

"I hope the water didn't damage it," muttered Minion.

"Oh pipe down, Minion, I'll build you a new one," he said tolerantly.

"Where did you learn to dance?" called a well-put-together teacher who had practically leapt in front of three small kids to get the nod. Megamind couldn't help but notice that the leap was _particularly_ graceful.

"Erm. Television." He coughed. "Between jailbreaks. Well, jail is boring, I had to do something to pass the time! They played an awful lot of musicals as well, hoping to stimulate my better nature. And I find that slightly embarrassing to admit, soooooo, moving on. _Quickly_. Next!"

"How many questions are left, sir?" Minion asked with a very badly concealed and extremely toothy smirk.

"Four," Megamind answered promptly. "You pick the next one."

"How are you different from humans?" asked the perfectly coiffed girl who stood next.

"I'm a fish," Minion pointed out.

"Not you," she rolled her eyes, before cooing, "Megamind." And she batted her mascara'd eyelashes at him winningly.

Megamind felt the need to back away slowly. His eyes flew to Roxanne in desperation, only to see that she was silently heaving with hysterical laughter, her hand over her mouth and tears escaping her screwed-up eyes. Fat lot of help she was.

Fine.

He took a deep breath, and then another.

"I have a carbon-based system just as a human does, though my bones are considerably more dense and my skin thicker. My bones are also smaller, and are a very pale green-blue, not off-white. The blue pigmentation of my skin is from the radiation my planet was subject to from orbiting a White Dwarf for approximately two billion years until it collapsed and formed the black hole that sucked it up. My blood has roughly twice the equivalent of your white cell count, as I was born with natural immunity to my planet's diseases, and developed yet more antibodies once I landed here. My heart has six chambers, not four, to compensate for the increased flow of blood to the cranium, which is roughly three times the size and infinitely more magnificent than that of your common or garden homo sapiens. I have only one bone in each forearm, not a radius and ulna. Six pairs of ribs are floating, as opposed to the three pairs you have, young lady. This allows me a certain amount of trunk flexibility, as does the fact that I have nine more spinal vertebrae than you, all rather smaller than those seen in humans, naturally. My finger bones are elongated, as are my thigh bones, and all joints, are, in your parlance, hyperextensive. My teeth replace themselves as required, unlike a human's singular childhood and adult sets. My nose and ears are not cartil-ahge as a doctor would understand it, but a softer, slightly gelatinous form of my bone tissue. My fat-to-muscle ratio is practically non-existent. I have six interlocking abdominal muscles compared to the human eight, and can stretch up to thirty percent further in all dorsal and pectoral muscles, including but not limited to the deltoid, bicep, pectoralis major, rhomboid…"

"He'll go on all day like this if you let him," Minion interrupted conversationally, and the well-preened girl sat back down with an unsatisfied thump.

"You fantastic fish, you," Megamind muttered fervently.

"You're welcome," Minion grinned back at him. "You pick."

"Um, you?" he nodded to a stocky fellow with glasses. The boy grinned with barely-contained delight as he stood.

"Do you think that faster-than-light speed will be achievable?" he asked with an air of utmost anticipation. Both the speakers could see the lad's fingers crossed.

"I know it can," Megamind answered eagerly. Finally, a sensible question. "I got here over a distance of roughly three million light years in just over three weeks linear time."

"Ohhhh," the boy sighed rapturously. "_Awesome_."

"I don't know where they took my pod after I landed in the prison, but I've always meant to reverse-engineer the mechanics of it, see how it works," Megamind expounded enthusiastically. "Of course, moving faster-than-light also means travelling back in time, so my planet is currently sitting out there perfectly undamaged and I'll never get to it without a universe-ripping paradox. Which is really annoying, to be perfectly frank. To achieve faster-than-light _without_ time dilation is unachievable as far as I can tell. I have several theories. One – Einstein was correct and we will have to give up absolute relativity, causing time dilations and entering a state we could call 'special' or 'partial' relativity in which the speed of light could in fact be non-standard, especially with the use of a Casimir vacuum producing the Scharnhost effect. Personally, I prefer this theory, although I'm skeptical of the claims of Nimtz and Stahlhofen to have distorted relativity in lab conditions, I mean honestly, if _I_ couldn't do it with my_ vastly_ superior intellect, what makes them think they _what? I'm talking quantum, can't it… oh._"

Minion stopped tugging on Megamind's sleeve and crossed his robotic gorilla arms.

"Short answer; yes," Megamind said resentfully. What a delightful boy. "Long answer would apparently be _too_ long, so the spoilsport here had better pick another question."

Minion nudged him, and he nudged back, before Minion put on a more sensible demeanour. "Okay then. You there, in the striped shirt?"

"So you really remember everything?" the girl asked breathlessly, standing clumsily.

"That five minute lapse ruins a perfect record," he said self-mockingly. "But yes, excepting when I'm asleep."

"Can you remember your parents?"

There was another silence. Megamind's face had closed down again.

"Damn it," Roxanne said under her breath. "Keep it together, Syx…"

"I…" Megamind faltered. "I do."

He cleared his throat again. It was dry. All those watchful eyes were somehow accusatory.

"I remember them… quite well. I look a lot like my father. His chin, his brow, but… but I have my mother's eyes. She… she had very soft hands, and a very sad smile. M-my dad… his eyes were brown. He had a full goatee and a deep laugh. I didn't hear him laugh very often though, not in those scant eight days… the black hole, understand. Their… their every thought was towards saving me. I wish I'd heard my mother laugh. But she only ever cried."

The silence was deafening. Oppressive.

Then the girl who'd asked the question straightened herself up and said sincerely, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Megamind blinked, snapping out of infant, bittersweet memories.

"I'm sorry for your loss," echoed the preteen boy, followed by the little girl near the front. Soon the whole hall was murmuring condolences to him on the passing of his parents and planet.

"Wow, sir," Minion said in a hushed voice. Megamind swallowed hard.

"Thank you," he said in a suspiciously scratchy voice. "Thank you for that."

"I think this is the last question, everyone," Minion said loudly to cover his friend's discomfiture. The children shifted in disappointment, a few 'aaawww!'s rising from the stands, though the mood was still a bit sombre.

Megamind threw his pointed chin up, and dared anyone to say anything about his recent lapse in presentation. "Um. You? The lanky gentleman with the excellent taste in band t-shirts?"

"Are you dating Roxanne Ritchi?" asked the tall young man who stood next with breathless anticipation.

"Ooooh," Megamind jerked backwards. "Well…"

The whole hall leaned forward.

Megamind looked helplessly over to Roxanne. If he said yes, he made her a target… and yet he wanted to sing it from the mountains, write it in brainbots in the sky…

"Yes," shouted Roxanne. "Yes, he is!"

His face broke into a silly grin. Of course he wouldn't be the one to make that decision; she could decide for herself and always had. He grinned harder as he watched her struggling through the hordes of seated, cheering children towards him, and he leaned over, offering his hand to help her up the steps onto the stage.

"Stop grinning like that," she told him, though she was smiling back.

"Like what? Like this?" he grabbed her and span her around. "That was… well, it was moderately awful, but it's over! Aha, sweet victory! Now let's go eat things and possibly partake of a caffeinated beverage."

Roxanne glanced over to the hooting kids, and then back at him. "Well done, you," she said softly.

He smiled the special smile. "Thanks to you."

She kissed him then, and the roof nearly came off.

* * *

"You did brilliantly," Roxanne congratulated him as they pulled back into the Lair. "I told you, didn't I? They loved you, and you were able to give them a talk that actually might help."

"It... wasn't the terrifyingly nightmarishly hideous ordeal of torture I thought it might be," he conceded.

"That's the best you're going to get," Minion called from the front of the car.

"I am going to send an anonymous letter to that fan of yours telling her where you shop and the holograms you use," Megamind groused.

"Whatever you say, sir. Pretzels for lunch?"

"Pretzels, yes, yes, pretzels, Minion! Excellent! To the pretzels!" Megamind rubbed his hands gleefully, before catching Roxanne's eye again. "What?" he said defensively. "I like pretzels."

She just shook her head in amusement and kissed him on the cheek. He folded her hand in his.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She gave him a pleased but puzzled look. "What for? You did all the work in there."

"Second chances," he said cryptically.

* * *

~fin~

_AN: The name 'Syx' was dreamed up by the incredibly handsome authorial genius Silver Shepherd, in the fic, 'Times Syx.'_

_Many thanks go to the lady with the ideas, psychic_saphie!_


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